Zander turned away from the enemy and gazed wistfully at the British line. He pondered the wisdom of moving Theo, if he even could. He himself been leaking a bit here and there from his gashes. The struggle against the heavy mud had left him drained.

The ground was wet and slick. Could he put Theo on their combined uniform coats and drag him across it? He realized he could only use his own coat. He was horribly certain that Theo's snug uniform was the only thing holding his torso together in one piece.

The British line was far and the medical tents farther yet. Rumor abounded that after nearly four weeks of siege and high casualties, there was no more morphine, no laudanum, not even a drop of spirits to get a man too blind drunk to feel the amputation of his legs. There was no real succor there for the severely wounded. There were only the blood-spattered blankets on which the men screamed all night and all day until they died.

The entire company had heard the agony coming from those tents, where it was known that the doctors were playing only the safest odds. By necessity, only the men sure to recover were being treated at all. The others were laid out side by side across the tent floor and given water if they could swallow it.

Those doctors would have nothing to give Theo after he went through the torture just to journey across fifty yards. Zander put his face into his cold, water-wrinkled hands and wept for Theo, who wasn't dead.

He heard Theo gasp himself into wakefulness and quickly rejoined his friend, feeling his way in the darkness. He wiped his wet face on his sleeve to conceal his weeping, then realized the foolishness of hiding tears in the rain.

"I'm here, Theo, I'm here." Zander reached to hold his friend as gently as he could to warm him and to provide comfort, even if Theo was too far gone to know it.

This time Theo met Zander's return with words. "Die!" he gasped.

Zander's gut turned to ice. "Yes." He would not lie to Theo. "You are going to die."

Theo's broken hand spasmed toward Zander's. "Die. Now!" Then the screams began to build up beyond Theo's ability to control them, seeping from his broken jaw in a rasping mewling sound that Zander felt all the way to his bones. Theo had no voice left. His screams were naught but long, rasping gasps. It seemed even more obscene that Theo should be robbed of his rightful expression of his agony.

"Now!" Theo insisted before losing his wits to the agony that ripped through him as he screamed himself breathless and then senseless once more.